Scintillation
by Secretly Sparkling
Summary: It's strange how you can know so much about someone without really knowing them. HondaJonouchi friendship.


Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh.

A/N : This story is weird, don't say I didn't warn you. _Might_ seem OOC (because I had originally written this from Yuugi's point of view before deciding it would make more sense from Honda).

**Scintillation: the twinkling of the stars caused when changes in the density of the earth's atmosphere produce uneven refraction of starlight. **

Jonouchi is brash. He likes video games and action movies but doesn't like the colour orange. He's always five minutes behind everyone else but he hates waiting more than anything. He can't stand our math teacher. He likes swing sets and beaches (because of his sister), but he'd never admit it. He likes Mai and Anzu. He likes Yuugi and Shizuka. Hates Kaiba. Likes me.

It's strange how you can know so much_ about _someone without really _knowing_ them.

"Honda?"

Scraped knees. Duel Monsters.

"You okay?"

Cheap food. Soccer balls. Reckless laughter when everyone else is ready to go home.

I want to smile and say something affirmative, but I can't. "_You're_ not." It's not a question.

He noticed me looking at the smattering of bruises on his upper arm, partially covered by the frayed ends of his t-shirt, and sighed. Jonouchi doesn't sigh like Anzu, bare shoulders heaving with exasperation. He doesn't sigh like Yuugi, all wistful and pondering, eyes staring in a seemingly meaningless direction. Jonouchi doesn't even sigh like his sister Shizuka, a mere releasing of breath and a slight dip of the shoulders. His entire body slumps and his eyes close and the escaping air makes a hissing sound through his teeth. When Jonouchi sighs, I want to fix it. When Jonouchi sighs, our fractured childhood of ice cream and fist fights twists into something cruel and unrecognizable, mud and tears mocking the blood and pain we've gone through as we too turn into something different. I won't lie and say our lives were easy back then, but they weren't as damn hard as they have been lately.

"Honda."

Laughter. Sunshine. Lost keys. Pooling the few extra dollars we had to buy some lunch on a lonely Saturday.

"Don't ask... okay?"

I don't know why you're looking away. I want to grab you by the shoulders and ask what the hell is going on, but even I know that it won't help anything.

"I... understand..."

Jonouchi sighed again and rubbed his calloused hands up and down his bare arms, a gesture that used to seem so startling and foreign on someone like him. Nowadays, it's become common and flimsy, an easy cover for yet another "I don't want to talk about it." that Jonouchi expects me to forget. The sunset in front of us reflects back into our solemn faces, the last rays of the sun creating long shadows that make us seem bigger and stronger than we really are.

"We're friends, Jonouchi," I said, words pouring out of my mouth before my brain even registers them, "You know you can talk to me if you need to, hn?" I worry about you.

"That... that really means a lot to me, Honda." He replied after a pause, mouth twisted up awkwardly into his right cheek, the classic Jonouchi-sign that he's trying not to cry. He hated crying in front of people almost as much as I did. We used to solve the problem by crying together. "Believe me, it really does. But I don't need to talk about it."

Suddenly, I get it.

"I understand." And I really do this time. He knows I'm here, and that's enough. I offer a smile and he receives it gratefully, moving away with the loping gait that screams 'Jonouchi' more than a name tag ever could.

Maybe I should have forced him to talk; it's not the first time that's happened. Maybe this is all just a mistake, another slight of the hand that contains a secret that I think I've figured out until the hands turn pink and the cards disappear and I'm right back where I started from.

Maybe I'm seeing him wrong. But maybe, just maybe, after all these years, I've finally seen Jonouchi as clearly as he needs me to.


End file.
